


An Unexpected Engagement

by StarTravel



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Don't Worry Jadzia is Alive Ezri is her Sister, Engagement, Fluff and Humor, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Romantic Comedy, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 15:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17645576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarTravel/pseuds/StarTravel
Summary: Julian is a nobleman and healer in need of a husband or wife according the Alpha Council, rather he likes it or not. Garak is a nobleman on Cardassia who rose from the working classes and wants to protect his beloved Cardassia above all else.When the two meet and spar over literature, an argument that spills into the high council room courtesy of Garak, neither could have predicted the outcome (even if anyone with common sense could have).Or a fantasy romantic comedy that will probably have *all* the tropes.





	An Unexpected Engagement

 Julian has managed to put off his destiny for longer than most nobles, making it to close to 30 without even the suggestion of a marriage. His skills as a healer secured that, Captain Sisko coming up with excuse after excuse to keep him safely in the Outlands between the Federation and Bajor. He’s seen things both good and bad there, failed and succeeded in equal measure.

 Julian thinks he’s better for it, kinder and more capable of understanding others, but his family doesn’t agree and he can’t avoid their demands for marriage this time. Captain Sisko has no immediate need for him, and there are other healers heading toward the outlands now. Julian needs to do his duty as the eldest son of a noble family and secure an alliance for Terra.

 At least he’ll get to travel somewhere new.

 Julian can feel Miles staring at him as he focuses on packing, the other man’s judgment practically wafting across the room. Miles has been his dearest friend in the outlands, a blacksmith with a heart of gold and a spine of steel. It had taken a good year to win him over, but now there is no one Julian trusts or likes more.

 Which is why Miles knows all his secrets and knows the varied dangers that marriage presents to someone like him. But Julian gave his word over 20 years ago, and his marriage could help further the peace in the alpha quadrant, as long as he marries the _right_ person. Julian’s already made a short list of potential matches and calculated the likelihood of each excepting.

 Miles seems to have forgotten that, brow furrowed and mouth pressed into a thin line as he watches Julian add another shirt to the pile. “Wait, you’re actually going through with this? You know you don’t have to. If you wanted to become a healer somewhere else in the Federation -“

 “You and Captain Sisko would secret me away without a word to my parents?” Julian gives a lopsided smile as he starts gathering up what little he wants to take from his room. He has few good memories here, all his happy ones spent at his days training with the other healers or during his apprenticeship under captain Sisko. The fact that it had lasted twice as long as any other healers and that there was no other healer there is mere coincidence. “As tempting as that offer is, I do have a duty here, Miles.”

 “Does regaining your family’s honor really matter that much to you?” Miles grunts in a low voice, crossing his arms against his chest as he glances at him out of the corner of his eye. Julian swallows a high-pitched laugh, biting lip as he takes in the irony of Miles’ words. He is born of fairies and magic, he has no family honor to regain.

 “It doesn’t matter at all, actually. But I made a vow. Besides, think of the adventure. Marriage means a new part of the Federation to explore, new medicinal herbs to discover, people to meet. Just imagine it, Miles.” Julian’s voice grows far away and dreamy, gaze filling with imaginary cities and villages, plains and mountaintops he’s never gotten the chance to see before, magic close up and not just embedded within his skin. He might not want to marry, but he can’t pretend he doesn’t welcome the possibilities it could open up to him.

 Miles lets out a low exhale, shaking his head so a few of his curls fall across his forehead. Julian beams at him, smile wide and still a touch dreamy as a world of possibilities opens up to him. They close just as quickly when Miles is a the side of his arm with his thumb. “What if your new partner doesn’t want you to work?”

 Julian huffs softly as he glowers at Miles, gaze annoyed and flat at the same time. Julian can’t believe that Miles is trying to find ways to dull what silver linings there were to marriage. Julian straightens his shoulders, glancing around the room to see if he’d left anything behind. “Then they’ll just have to accept that the idea royals can’t work is archaic and do what I want.”

 “Yes, and I’m sure nothing could go wrong with that plan.” Miles snorts with another quick jab to Julian’s side, though this time his touch is more affectionate and playful than worried. Julian meets his gaze over his suitcase, a grin finding its way back to his face even as he feels his stomach start to clench.

 Julian tilts his head to the left, reaching a hand out towards Miles’ shoulder. Julian gives Miles‘ shoulder a quick squeeze, smile crooked as he meets his friend’s worried gaze. “Your optimism never fails to impress me, Miles.”

 “Just be careful, alright? And don’t let your parents make the match. They’re just go for the most respected person there without asking enough questions.” Miles’s voice comes out rough as he grabs Julian’s shoulder, something almost scratchy to the quality of it. If Julian didn’t know better, he’d almost think Miles was on the verge of tears.

 But since he does know better, Julian ignores that and chooses to wipe at his own eyes instead. He’s never had a friend as close as Miles in his life before, and leaving him is one of the hardest things Julian’s ever had to do. But peace has to come first, even over justice.

 “Lets just hope no one asks _me_ too many questions.” Julian mutters as he runs his hands down the smooth suede of his suitcase. Julian lets the sensation over take him for a few seconds while he breathes deeply, trying to ease any lingering sense of panic. When he opens his eyes, Miles is there watching him with a pained smile and watery gaze, the way he shuffled back and forth the same few steps over and over.

 Julian suddenly twists around so he’s facing Miles more fully, hands coming back to rest on his shoulders again. His cotton vest feels slightly scratchy under his skin and Julian wonders if he’ll ever feel that material again. “What are you doing?”

 “You might not see me ever again, Miles.” Julian tries to keep his voice light even as he feels the tears start to build in the back of his eyes. There’s a choked up quality to his voice as he spreads his arms out wide, raising one eyebrow pointedly.

 “Fine, you pest.” Miles grumbles as he steps into the hugs. Despite his tone, he squeezes Julian back just as tightly as Julian clings to him for a few seconds. Then Julian lets go, taking a step back to watch as his friend lifts up his suitcase with a tight smile that does nothing to hide his tears.

 Julian takes it quickly, not letting his own tears fall until he’s safely in the gilded hallway, gold lining the ceilings and glittering in a way that feels false. Julian brushes his hand over a worn golden Lion, fingers splaying against the head and remembering all the times he’d leaned on it while chatting away to Miles or Jadzia. Then Julian forces himself to walk toward the docks that will take him to the Alpha Council. He does not think he will come home again.

* * *

   Garak saunters down the hallways of the Alpha Council Palace, letting the warm summer breeze wash over him. He’s glad that they’re having the annual arrangements of betrothals in the summer for once, it’s always unbearable for all the Cardassians when they hold it in autumn or winter. Those Terrans and Trills and Vulcans really have no respect for the Dragonborn.

 Garak finds these meetings amusing and good educational opportunities, though he’s far past the point both in age and in his career as a spy to need either. In theory he’s a compelling marriage candidate, wealthy and important in Cardassian society, and he rose from the serving classes - if one ignores certain secrets of parentage - to nobility in a way that appeals to those optimistic, rose-eyed terrans.

 But Garak and Tain always manage to find reasons to refuse every possible match, and at this point they’re barely ever offered anymore. Thus, Garak uses these little meetings more for amusement than anything else.

 And Garak has to admit that Terran sitting there, skin smooth and the color of burnished gold, looks like he could be very amusing indeed. His hazel eyes alive with excitement as his slender fingers turn the pages in a hurried manner, a few of those curls falling across his face. He doesn’t even seem to sense Garak walking towards him, a form of naivety that can only belong to the coddled. “My lord, What are you reading?”

 “How did you know I was a lord?” The young man asks as he looks up from his book, and now that he’s up close Garak sees that he has impossibly long lashes, matching the slender lines of his frame. The man leans forward, and Garak frowns as he takes in the almost blinding red of his shirt and the way they clash with the vibrant orange of his pants, each piece of clothing somehow being the exact wrong shade for his complexion.

 A lord, but not one who has spent much time being taught the finer points of dress. That could be indifferent parents, but that could also be because he’s spent the past few years away from the capital or country estates.

 Garak thinks of the many answers he could give the man. That his clothes are made of silk and brocade, even if Garak’s never see them look so hideous before. That his hands lack the right callouses, though they have more than Garak would have expected. That no one but a noble would ever think to sit on a bay window in a stranger’s house like he owned it. “Despite your … unfortunate state of dress, you have a certain regal bearing.”

 “You mean I look an arrogant fool?” The man asks with a wry grin, eyes flashing with a kind of delight that borders on the Cardassian. Then he winces a little, eyebrows pressing together as though he only now realized he shouldn’t have said that. Away from the capital indeed.

 “Precisely.” Garak grins in spite of himself. He’s always appreciated directness in flirting and banter, perhaps because he can never so himself. The man’s wince fades, replaced with a grin that’s too open by half. Garak leans down, catching the title of the book and a better look of that scandalously exposed neck all at once. “The trillian poetry of Deshar? How are you liking it?”

 The man glances up, one hand coming up into the air in evident excitement, the other tapping lightly on the cover of his book. Garak can see his hands more clearly now, the calluses on his fingertips and his palms. Clearly from holding tools, but nothing like the ones he would’ve gotten from farm work. A scribe maybe? “You’ve read it?”

 “Is that such a surprise?” Garak asks in a lilting voice, leaning against the side of the window seat so he’s closed the other man in slightly. The other man bites his lip as though to keep from blurting out whatever’s on his mind. Instead he leans forward, meeting Garak’s gaze as he swallows carefully. The inside of his neckline is lined with a teal that clashes with the yellow but tells Garak all he needs to know. A healer.

 “Cardassians aren’t exactly known for their appreciation of other cultures.” The healer tells him with a bit of a wet grin, eyes sparkling a little as he leans in towards Garak. He’s never met a Terran who flirts so much like a Cardassian before.

 Garak raises an eye ridge, lips pressed together in mock disapproval. “And here I thought the federation was known for its open mind and heart.”

 “Mocked for it, you mean?” The healer’s voice is pointed as he leans back more against the window sill, lithe body stretched out as though in offering. “And for the record I’m enjoying it. The use of the Hexaldan rhyme scheme is a bit derivative of Tolar’s works, but the use of double meaning in the syntax is quite clever, and the main character is very likable.”

 “I agree with you about the surprising cleverness and rhymes, but I’m surprised that such a clever young man would find such a naive hero interesting.” Garak assures the healer with a slightly teasing grin, pressing his ridge together in mock despair. That pulls a full-bodied laugh from the other man, shoulders shaking and hand moving towards his mouth. Garak’s not sure he’s ever met someone with such a delightful lack of artifice before. “And for the record, healer, even if Cardassian art is superior, I can appreciate certain federation beauties.”

 “To our mutual greater cultural understanding, then.” The healer flushed at Garak’s words but still holds his own, smile suddenly holding promises Garak knows he can’t let him keep.

 So Garak is relieved when someone calls out ‘Jules’ and the healer scowls and slides to his feet, not so much as a wave goodbye as he walks down the glittering halls as though to his death sentence. He thinks he could have rather liked that melodrama and liking is dangerous thing.

* * *

   Julian walks into the Alpha Council room with slower steps than he’s used since arriving at the Castle of The Four Kingdoms earlier, the reality of the situation setting in. It was one thing to imagine the adventures of a new country with unknown magic and flora in the safety of his rooms with Miles and Sisko.

 It’s another thing to face it with the realization that he’ll have to share all of his secrets with someone new all over again, and not someone by choice. He would never have another meeting like in the garden, no handsome men or women with skin the color of grey marble and ridges the most lovely shade of slate approaching him with knowing smiles. No more playful teasing and a shared sense of delight as one met someone like and unlike themselves. Not that Julian’s had many of those meetings outside of today in the garden, but still. He might have. And if not, well, it would have been nice to at least have stayed with people who liked him in a different way.

 So Julian’s eyes light up when he catches sight of Lady Jadzia Dax of Trill, the rich purple of her gown, which seemed to change color with her movements as she glided toward him. Julian crosses the distance between them, grinning as he pulls her into a quick hug. The thin layers of silk of her dress brush against his hands. “Jadzia, I didn’t know that you would be here too! On the market for a husband or wife then.”

 “Not exactly. I’m here to help broker marriage arrangements for the trill delegates. Lord Curzon wanted me to consider marriage, but he doesn’t have the Dax anymore. I do.” Jadzia smirks at that, sliding her hand up to the series of spots along the side of her neck.

 The Dax is one of many ancient trill Magicks, the memories of each passed down from generation to generation through a different Symbiont. Jadzia has the Dax, a strong offensive magic as well as a bringer of Joy.

 “Which is fortunate, since he would’ve wanted _you_ to marry _him_.” Julian scoffs as he lets go of his friend, lips pressed into a thin line. He knows Jadzia has some inexplicable love for the old man, but he certainly doesn’t.

 Jadzia meets his look of disgust with a knowing grin, gaze equal parts amused and touched. Julian returns the smile after a moment, shaking his head ruefully as he lets her lead him toward the rows of couches and heavy armchairs in the council room. If anyone could protect themselves, it’s Jadzia. “Possibly, though I seem to remember a certain Terran Lord trying to court me four years ago.”

 “And you quickly put me in my place.” Julian reminds her with a rueful grin, shaking his head as he despairs at his slightly younger self. Jadzia has always been enchanting, but he knows she must have found his advances exhausting at best. She doesn’t find him exhausting anymore though. “But you know, Jadzia, given your and Lady Kahn’s situation, a marriage of convenience might be something worth considering.”

 “A marriage of convenience?” Jadzia asks with a raised eyebrow, tilting her head to the left as she takes a few steps forward. Julian walks a few steps behind her, not wanting to break any protocols he might not be aware of. Jadzia _is_ technically a higher noble than him due to the Dax. He manages to keep his gaze locked on her still, smiling tightly as he watches her eyes fill with curiosity. It’s a start.

 “Yes, you can run off and meet with Lenara whenever you want, and if the person you marry has some kind of secret that makes marriage complicated …” Julian trails off purposely, pressing his lips together as he raises an eyebrow. Jadzia is low on his list of potential marriages, but she’s still on it and likely the safest option.

 After all, Jadzia already knows his blessings and his curse, and her heart belongs to someone else already. There’s no danger there.

 Jadzia bites her lip as though she’s considering his offer for a moment, gaze flickering away from him and out the window towards the ocean. Lenara waits for her on the other side of it. But then Jadzia’s gaze turns to the council members entering the room to decide Julian’s face and she shakes her head, smile almost apologetic as she takes his hand. “It’s a little late to try and make that arrangement, Julian.”

 Julian swallows tightly because he knows that, knows this was an impulse when he saw her across the room, safe and familiar instead of new and mildly terrifying. He wants the adventure, but he wants it with someone he can trust. Julian gives her a pleading gaze before he can stop himself, “Jadzia -“

 “Lord Julian Bashir of Terra, please come forward.” Lady Telera of the high council cuts off any more arguments he could make in his favor. It might be too late now anyway, the high council of the Alpha Kingdoms may have already chosen his potential matches. Then all Julian can do is court and be courted or be betrothed.

  Julian approaches the high chairs in the front of the room with as much grace as he can muster. He hopes against hope that neither his eagerness or his nerves show in his smile. Gul Tain stares at him, something thoughtful coming into his gaze that makes Julian shiver. “After talking with your parents and examining your qualifications for marriage, we were pleased to find that you were a very handsome marriage candidate.”

 “Thank you.” Julian answers as he sweeps into a low bow, keeping his gaze locked onto the floor. He bites his tongue to keep himself from telling all the details he and his parents had left off. Lies of omissions thankfully don’t count as lies.

 Lady Telera smiles at him, expression serene as she clasps her hands together. She has the wisdom of the Kelos Symbiont in her, and Julian can only hope that means she and the other council members had enough sense to make a good match for him. “We would like to propose a betrothal between you and Gul Dukat.”

 So much for that.

* * *

  Garak cannot let this healer - this _Julian -_ marry Gul Dukat. Not for Julian’s own sake and certainly not for Cardassia’s. Dukat would take this young man, so full of beauty and fire and an optimism, apart piece by piece, until those brilliant eyes turned dull. And Julian would not have the knowledge to play Dukat or eventually poison him, wouldn’t have the backing to overthrow him and gain power within the Cardassian military. No, Dukat must marry a Cardassian with enough sense to know when the other man had gone too far and enough power to take his place.

 “Ridiculous.” Garak calls in a loud voice as he slides in the chair next to Julian, sneering a bit as he looks down at the Terran. Julian’s eyes widen, mouth opening and closing a few times in undisguised offense. Hopefully that alone would be enough to make the council realize this sheep of a man can’t be thrown to the wolves of Dukat’s family.

 “Excuse me?” Julian cries as he leans forward, mouth pressed into the same petulant pout as in the gardens. His gaze flickers with an electricity that makes Garak lean in without even thinking about it, his own mouth twisting into a sharp grin. Under different circumstances, he thinks he would have rather liked to spend more time with this Julian. As it is, he’s just glad he’s easy to read.

 Garak lets out a clicking noise with his tongue, raising an eye ridge as he watches Julian’s face start to flush again, mouth set petulantly. Good. Garak keeps his voice light and airy as he speaks, but his gaze holds heavy judgment. “You wouldn’t suit Gul Dukat at all. He prefers his paramours with more class than a common _r’chotat.”_

“I know what that means. And for the record, from what I know about Cardassian flirting, you’re hardly one to talk.” Julian sounds affronted, mouth twisting in a way that would be unflattering on most people. Garak merely raises an eye ridge with a placid smile, trying not to let how impressed he is that Julian knows _any_ Kardasi show on his face. Julian huffs as he leans in toward Garak, biting his lip in clear anticipation of an apology.

 But Garak won’t apologize for saving the healer.

 “I’m not the one the Alpha council is suggesting marry Gul Dukat.” Garak reminds him as he shakes his head, letting his tone come as chiding and derisive. Julian’s mouth twists with anger, one hand flying up to hang in the air uselessly. Garak leans in this time, reaching a hand up so it’s mere inches away from the sliver of skin at the top of Julian’s collar. “And I’m also not the one sitting there showing off his neck like a-“

 Julian carefully undoes another two buttons on his shirt, so his clavicle flagrantly shows for the entire room to see. Garak hears the sounds of affront from the front of the room, but can’t bring himself to look away from the new smooth skin revealed to him. “There, is that better Mr.?”

 “Garak, plain, simple Garak.” Garak assures him in a lilting voice, just avoiding the urge to run his hands along the sharp lines of Julian’s collarbone. There might be time for this later, if Julian doesn’t make a match besides Dukat. But that’s not likely with his beauty and skills as a healer. One of the more publicly amorous kingdoms - the Trill or the Klingon - will snap him up and Garak will find someone else to play with.

 “Castellan Garak, actually. Heir to the Obsidian Order.” Gul Tain calls from the front of the room with a beatific smile, hands folded on the table. There’s a spark to his gaze that means he’s planning something, and it worries Garak that for once he doesn’t know what it is.

 “No wonder you couldn’t understand the finer complexities of Omila in Deshar’s works.” Julian lets out a low sigh as though disappointed, but his voice is clipped and with a touch of heat. At another time Garak would be delighted to have such a handsome Terran flirting with him so openly. As it is, he’s relieved.

 Garak grins as he leans in, letting his voice take on a more obviously flirtatious note. Garak presses his hands against Julian’s shoulders, thumbs purposefully angled towards his neck. He can see Tain gazing at him from across the table, one eye ridge raised as though to say ‘putting it on a little thick, aren’t we?’. Garak moves his thumbs inward so they rest on bare skin this time. “Well then maybe you could use that federation sanctimoniousness of yours to teach me better.”

 “I’d be delighted to further your clearly lacking education.” Julian answers back in a stilted voice, eyes wide and mouth hanging open slightly. Garak’s not sure he’s ever met someone who shows every emotion so vividly on his face before.

 “Castellan Garak is right, Gul Dukat cannot marry a man who flirts so outrageously with another publicly.” Lady Telera calls as she glances between them thoughtfully, her lips pursed as she spreads her arms out across the long table in front of them. Her sweeping mint sleeves spread out across it like a banner. Oh, Garak can’t help but imagining it’s in honor of his saving Julian from a life with Dukat. Better he spend it alone or in Ferenginar than that.

 “A fair point, your grace.” Lord Bashir mutters in a tight voice, gaze sharp and unforgiving as he stares down his sun from across the table. His eyes are a hard warning, and like his son, his expression did nothing to hide the disappointment or frustration in his gaze. Somehow Garak finds it less charming on the father than he does the son.

 Gul Ghemor suddenly stands up and Garak feels his stomach start to drop. The times soft-hearted Tekeny Ghemor has been his ally are equal to the times he’s  been his enemy. If he says Julian should marry Gul Dukat, it will be done. But Garak knows Ghemor hates Dukat more than him, sees him as a lost cause rather than one to convince.

 Whatever play he’s about to make won’t be to spite either of them, it will be to further Ghemor’s hopes of peace and resistance among Cardassians. “He’ll have to be betrothed to Castellan Garak, since they’re clearly infatuated with one another. Do you approve, Gul Tain?”

 Tain smiles at him in a way that’s far too knowing, and Garak can practically see the influence a match with the Bashirs would bring to the order glowing gold in his eyes. “I would be thrilled to welcome Lord Bashir into the family.”

 Garak glances at his brand-new fiancé, who is staring at him with dinner plate sized eyes Garak suspects match his own. So much for rescuing him from a life with a difficult Cardassian.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know if you think anything else needs to be tagged!
> 
> All comments and questions are welcomed and loved! :D


End file.
